Three Days Later – First Day of School
Third-Person Limited (Kendra)
Three days later, on what was technically their first day of school in the new country, Kendra was already over it.
She was exhausted—mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually, all the above. Sleep had apparently decided she wasn't worth the effort last night. She'd spent most of the night staring at the ceiling, scrolling through her phone, rereading old chats, and watching YouTube videos on low volume while the house creaked around her.
She hadn't even been anxious in a dramatic way. Just… restless. Wide awake. Thoughts buzzing. New house. New town. New school. New people. Everything new.
Her body finally gave in around 5:30 a.m.
Which was exactly why at 7:30, she wanted to fight her alarm clock.
"Kendra!" Jennie's voice floated through the closed bedroom door. "We have to leave in fifteen minutes!"
Kendra groaned, rolled onto her stomach, and buried her face into the pillow for a full five seconds of silent protest against life. Then she forced herself up.
Her friends were somehow already dressed, hair done, bags packed, and downstairs. Traitors.
By the time she'd dragged on jeans, a T-shirt, and a hoodie, brushed her teeth, fixed her hair into something that vaguely resembled a style, and thrown necessary books into her bag, she was the last one still in the house.
"Finally," Erica said as Kendra stomped down the stairs. "We thought you died."
"Mi wish," Kendra muttered, yawning.
They all piled out the door toward Sofia's car. The exchange program had promised them three vehicles, but of course those hadn't arrived yet. So, for now, they were stuck carpooling with their overly enthusiastic neighbor, who seemed determined to be their unofficial host, tour guide, and part-time babysitter.
Sofia didn't mind driving them, though. She seemed honored.
"Good morning, girls!" she sang as they packed themselves into the car.
"Morning," the group chorused.
Kendra buckled in slowly. "If I fall asleep and die, just toss my body in a KFC, please. That's where I belong."
Sofia laughed like it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. "You're so dramatic."
They stopped at Wendy's on the way, grabbing breakfast sandwiches and fries. Kendra ate in silence, staring out the window at the unfamiliar streets while everyone else chattered about classes, outfits, and possible cute guys.
She pretended not to hear that last part.
Eight minutes later, Sofia turned into the school parking lot.
The building loomed ahead of them—big, modern, and loud even from a distance. The parking lot was packed, students weaving between cars, groups talking, laughing, yelling across the asphalt. Even though they were late, it looked like everyone else was too.
Sofia put the car in park. "Okay, ladies, welcome to your first real day at Garrison Academy."
Kendra made a face. "Already hate it."
"You haven't even walked inside yet," Jennie said, nudging her with an elbow.
"That's enough for me to know," Kendra replied.
They got out of the car and fell into step behind Sofia, who led them through the main doors. The inside of the school was even more intimidating. Glossy floors, tall windows, bulletin boards lined with posters of clubs and sports, and way too many people who looked like they had their entire lives together.
They went straight to the office to pick up their schedules. An older woman with glasses on a chain around her neck handed each of them a paper.
"Welcome, girls," she said kindly. "If you have any questions, feel free to come back."
They stood in the hallway afterward, comparing schedules.
"We have English together," Erica said excitedly. "And History, and Gym."
"Yesss," Jeah added, pointing. "Math too. Okay, we're solid."
Kendra scanned her sheet, following the lines down. Three of her classes were circled in red ones where none of her friends' names appeared.
"So," she said, keeping her voice flat, "I'm the only one with three classes alone. No friends. No Sofia. Just vibes."
"Aw," Jennie said, leaning on her shoulder. "You'll be fine."
Kendra shrugged. It was disappointing—she wouldn't admit that out loud—but something about the idea of having space without them, without being "the group," was also… sort of nice. She liked her friends, loved them even, but she also liked breathing.
"Come on," Sofia said. "Let's show you your lockers."
Kendra had always wondered what having a locker would feel like. In Jamaica, they hadn't really used them. Bags carried everything. Backs suffered.
Here, a slim metal locker with a shiny number tag waited for her in a long row.
"That one's yours," Sofia said, pointing.
Kendra spun the combination a few times until it opened, then stared inside. So… this was an American teen movie staple. Kinda underwhelming. Just an empty metal box.
She started unpacking her bag, pulling out textbooks she didn't need for first period and stacking her notebooks.
The noise in the hallway was loud, people talking, laughing, doors banging shut. But then, slowly, the sound began to fade, like someone was turning down the volume on a radio.
Kendra didn't notice at first. She was too busy deciding whether to leave her hoodie in the locker and risk freezing or keep it on and risk sweating.
The silence hit her in one strange wave.
She frowned and glanced at her friends.
They weren't talking.
All four of them stood frozen, eyes wide, staring at something behind her. Their expressions were a mix of amazed, flustered, and starstruck.
She raised an eyebrow. "What now?"
None of them answered.
Curious—and a little annoyed—Kendra turned her head.
The entire hallway was staring in one direction. Students, teachers, random people passing by—everyone's gaze locked on something coming down the center of the hall. Faces were a mix of awe, envy, and, in some cases, hunger.
She finally turned fully to see.
Six guys walked down the hallway like they owned the building.
They were tall. Not "taller than average," but tall-tall. Broad shoulders, muscular builds, faces that would've looked perfectly at home on a TV show or billboard. They moved in a tight formation, people stepping aside as if some invisible force had pushed them out of the way.
It reminded Kendra of Moses parting the Red Sea.
If Moses was arrogant, genetically blessed, and irritating.
"Damn," Jennie whispered beside her.
"Those must be the popular guys," Erica breathed. "They're like… wow."
Kendra watched them approach, unimpressed.
Yes, they were handsome. Sure, they looked like trouble. But she'd seen enough self-absorbed boys in Jamaica to know looks and attitude usually travelled as a package deal.
They stopped near a set of lockers a little way down from the girls, on the opposite side of the hall. They joked and shoved each other, laughing too loudly.
Then the biggest one paused.
He stopped laughing mid-sentence, sniffed the air slightly, and snapped his head in their direction like he'd caught a scent.
Kendra felt his eyes lock onto her.
He was bigger than the others, more intense. Dark hair. Sharp jawline. Eyes that seemed to pin her in place, reading her, weighing her, like she was somehow significant.
Her eyebrows pulled together in a small frown.
His lips curved into a slow, arrogant smirk.
Then he turned back to his friends, rejoining the conversation like nothing had happened.
Kendra blinked, annoyed at the weird little shiver that ran down her spine.
Probably just ego fumes, she told herself.
She turned back to her locker, shoved the last book into place, and slammed the door shut. "You guys ready?" she asked her friends.
They all said yes, voices still a little shaky. Sofia started walking, leading them to their first class—thankfully, one they all shared.
As they passed the group of boys, Kendra kept her eyes straight ahead. She had no intention of feeding any egos today. But just as she stepped in front of the biggest one—the smirker—he casually shifted his foot.
Her shoe caught his.
Her body pitched forward violently.
She didn't even have time to throw her hands out properly.
"BAM."
The sound of her body hitting the floor cracked through the hallway. Her nose smacked the ground hard enough to make her see stars. Instantly, she felt something warm and wet sliding from her nostrils.
A chorus of laughter exploded around her.
It started with the boys and spread like a virus, rolling down the hallway. Even some of the kids who hadn't seen what happened laughed because everyone else did.
Kendra pushed herself up on her palms, blood already dripping from her nose onto the shiny floor. Anger shot through her veins so hot it drowned out the pain.
She turned around slowly and stood.
The group of boys was still laughing; some leaned against the lockers like it was the funniest thing they'd seen all week.
"You motherfuckers think this is funny?" Kendra yelled, voice echoing off the walls.
A few gasps came from nearby students. The laughter dimmed.
"Well, yeah," one of the guys answered, not even trying to hide his grin. "We just saw a whale fall. It was hilarious."
The hallway went quiet.
Kendra's vision tunneled. Her gaze locked on the boy who had tripped her—the big one with the smug smirk. He was still smiling, chuckling under his breath like he wasn't bothered at all.
She saw red.
She took a step forward and swung her fist, aiming straight for his face.
Before her punch could connect, one of his friends darted in front of him. A strong hand grabbed her wrist and shoved her backward with enough force that she stumbled.
She would've hit the ground again if her friends hadn't been right behind her. They grabbed her shoulders, steadying her.
Once her feet were firmly under her, Kendra stepped forward again. She walked straight up to the guy who'd pushed her and, without hesitation, punched him square in the face.
The crack of contact was loud and satisfying.
He recoiled, clutching his jaw, eyes blazing. He reared back like he was about to swing at her.
The big one—the tripper—grabbed his arm. "Don't," he muttered.
At the same time, Kendra's friends swarmed her, pulling her away, talking over each other, telling her to leave it, not getting expelled on the first day.
They dragged her down the hall and into their classroom, hearts racing, adrenaline still buzzing in her chest.
Most of the seats were already taken, but there were a few open ones left in the back.
"Perfect," Kendra muttered, heading straight for them. She dropped into her seat with a huff. Nose still throbbing, she wiped at the dried blood with a tissue someone shoved into her hand.
She just needed to get through this day without committing murder. That was all.
After a few minutes, the teacher walked in—a woman in her mid-forties with a soft blouse and strict eyes. She set her bag on the desk and grabbed a marker.
"Good morning, everyone. I'm Mrs. Turner. Before we begin, I'd like to—"
She stopped abruptly as the door slammed open.
A small group of boys spilled into the room, laughing and shoving each other. Kendra didn't bother looking up at first. She knew that laugh already. It had already been filed away in the part of her brain labelled People to Punch Later.
"Sorry, Mrs. Turner," a familiar voice said. "It's hard trying to keep these idiots under control sometimes."
Kendra's eyes snapped up.
It was him.
The asshole who had tripped her.
Up close, he somehow looked even more annoyingly put-together. His uniform fit just right. His posture screamed confidence. His eyes scanned the room like he owned it.
Mrs. Turner gave him a small smile. "It's okay, Mr. Garrison. I know how boys can get." She raised her voice. "Robin and Antonio, get yourselves off that floor and into your seats! The new students are about to introduce themselves."
Mr. Garrison.
Kendra's hands clenched around the edge of her desk.
So that's his name, she thought. I'll remember it for the obituary.
He turned to scan the classroom. His gaze brushed past a few students, then locked onto her.
There it was again—that smirk. Like he knew exactly what he'd done and enjoyed every second of it.
He started walking up the aisle, each step unhurried, confident. He stopped right in front of her desk and glanced down at the surface as if inspecting it before meeting her eyes again.
"What?" she snapped, already irritated.
"You're in my seat," he said calmly.
Kendra barked out a humorless laugh. "The hell? Is your name on the seat? Or did you buy it?"
"No," he replied, voice dropping slightly. "But my dad donates money to the school every year. Plus, he's the principal of this school. So technically, he owns every single item here. From the lockers you put your stuff into the desks you sit on. So, when I say get up"—his eyes hardened— "you get the fuck up."
A ripple went through the room. A few students turned to stare, waiting to see what she'd do.
Kendra leaned back in her chair, crossed her arms over her chest, and stared him down.
"I'm still not getting up," she said, voice low but steady. "And I'd love to see you try to get me out of this seat. There are plenty of others here, but you chose to come bother me. So go on. Put your hands on me. I wish you would."
His jaw flexed. For a moment, something sharp and dangerous flashed in his eyes. He reached out; fingers started to curl like he was going to grab her.
Before he could, one of his friends, the same one she'd punched earlier—pulled him back by the arm and leaned in to whisper something into his ear. His gaze flicked to Kendra again, studying her with a strange intensity, then back to his friend.
Whatever was said worked.
He straightened, gave her a murderous glare, and leaned in just close enough so only she could hear.
"Watch your back, bitch," he whispered.
A thrill of anger shot through her, but she only smirked, tilting her head like she wasn't impressed.
"That the best you got?" she murmured.
He scoffed and turned away, heading for the very back of the room. His friends followed, taking the seats behind her.
Kendra slowly leaned back in her chair, heart still racing. She felt their eyes on the back of her head for the rest of the class.
She refused to give them the satisfaction of turning around.
The rest of the morning crawled by. Teachers introduced themselves. Syllabi were handed out. Students whispered and giggled and blatantly stared at the five Jamaican girls in the room.
By lunch, Kendra was starving and drained.
The girls found an empty table near the back of the cafeteria. It was perfectly enough from the center of the room to feel slightly hidden, but close enough to the exit in case she decided the entire place was too much and wanted to disappear.
They sat down, unpacked their food, and started talking about classes.
For about five minutes, everything was peaceful.
Then the shadows fell over their table.
Kendra looked up to find Dominic (who Sofia corrected when I called him Mr. Garrison, while ranting earlier) and his friends standing there, tray in hand. A group of girls clung to their arms and shoulders, laughing too loudly, fluttering eyelashes like they were auditioning for a reality show.
"This our table," Garrison said, looking down at them. "Move."
Kendra stared at him, then at the completely free tables scattered around the room.
"No," she said simply, looking back at her food.
One of the girls, a blonde with heavy makeup caked across her face, unhooked herself from Antonio's arm and slapped her hands onto the table.
"Didn't you hood rats hear what my boyfriend said?" she sneered. "Get your ugly asses up and go find another table. We want this one."
Kendra slowly lifted her head.
She smiled. It wasn't a nice smile.
"And didn't this stick-looking, makeup-caked face bitch hear what we said?" she replied. "We're not moving. We're not scared of you. So go find another spineless group to pick on."
The girl gasped. "This bitch—yo, I swear—"
Dominic grabbed her wrist. "Leave it," he muttered, pulling her away. "It's not worth it."
He dragged her a few steps toward another table.
Kendra went back to her food, assuming that was the end of it.
It wasn't.
Her head was down, scrolling through her phone with one hand while eating with the other, when she sensed movement beside her.
She looked up just as the blonde girl tipped an entire cup of chocolate milkshake over her.
Cold, sticky liquid drenched her hair, her face, her hoodie, sliding down into her shirt. The gasps and bursts of laughter from the other tables hit her ears like slaps.
The blonde stood over her, smiling sweetly. "Don't ever talk to me like that again," she said. "If you do, I'm going to make your life miserable."
She turned as if to walk away.
Kendra stood up so fast her chair skidded back with a loud screech.
Her fingers shot out, tangling in the girl's hair. She yanked, hard, and slammed her face down onto the table with a satisfying thud. Trays rattled. Someone screamed.
The laughter in the cafeteria died instantly.
Kendra grabbed the nearest container—a big bowl of dipping sauce—and poured the entire thing down the front of the girl's shirt. Then, for good measure, she rubbed it in, sauce smearing across expensive fabric and streaking down her chest.
The girl shrieked.
Kendra leaned in close, voice low enough for only the immediate area to hear.
"If you ever come near me or anyone I care about again," she said calmly, "I'm going to break every bone in your body and embarrass you so bad you'll have to change schools. Got that?"
The girl nodded frantically, eyes wide and wet.
"Good." Kendra let go of her hair. "Now get the fuck off my table and out of my sight."
She glanced up, catching Antonio's stunned expression and Dominic's unreadable one.
"Oh," she added, straightening up. "And take your boyfriend and your friends with you."
The girl scrambled away, still dripping sauce and milkshake. Her little entourage hurried after her. Antonio followed, jaw clenched, not meeting Kendra's eyes.
The cafeteria stayed quiet for a beat.
Then, slowly, conversations started again but no one else came near their table for the rest of lunch.
Kendra exhaled, adrenaline still buzzing in her fingertips. Her hoodie clung to her uncomfortably. She grabbed some napkins and dabbed at the mess, but it was useless.
"Come on," Jennie said softly. "Let's go to the office. See if they have something you can change into."
They walked out of the cafeteria together. Kendra could feel eyes on her the whole way.
She ended up borrowing a T-shirt from the lost and found—large, plain, and ugly—but at least it was dry.
The rest of the day was… eventful.
People stared in the halls. Some whispered. A few smiled at her like she was some kind of legend. Others looked at her with wariness, like she was a walking warning sign.
Every time she walked into a classroom, she could feel Dominic's eyes on her. Sometimes she looked back. Sometimes she didn't.
Either way, one thing was clear:
Day one, and she'd already made enemies.
And as far as Kendra Atchinson was concerned…
They started it.